A Day of Surprises
by Quinnlove202
Summary: Established Relationship AU. While visiting Mercedes in LA, Quinn and Santana decide to go to Disneyland for the very first time. Quinntana. Oneshot.


AN: I was on a Disney kick when I started this, ha. Here yet another story that was sitting unfinished on my computer. Enjoy!

* * *

It is _way_ too early for Quinn to be putting her through this shit.

Like, seriously, what. the. hell.

The park barely opened its gates five minutes ago and Quinn was rushing to beat a crowd that was still waddling their way down Main Street.

"Come on, Santana!"

Quinn hurries through the castle archway, leaving Santana to fucking power jog just to keep up with her. (If she'd known how much fucking cardio this place would involve, she would've put up so much more of a fight before they left).

"Damnit, Quinn!"

Only when the blonde pulls her into their apparent destination - Peter Pan's Flight - is Santana finally able to catch her breath. "What the fuck, Q?"

"Don't give me that face, Santana." Quinn snaps back, mildly irritated that, despite their rushing start a line of people had already formed ahead of them. "I checked online and the consensus was to get through the Fantasyland rides first thing in the morning. Their wait times are nightmares otherwise."

Santana leans against the railing and snorts. "Of course you did research."

"Excuse me for wanting to get the most out of this trip." Quinn narrows her eyes before returning her attention to the map in her hands. "We only have one day to see everything."

A day that was _supposed_ to be spent shopping and pampering themselves with Mercedes. But when those plans fell through — Mercedes got called in for a last minute work thing— Santana had hoped to spend the day instead soaking up the California sun at their hotel's private beach with Quinn in their bikinis, getting their drank on.

Not at a stupid theme park that didn't even have the decency to sell alcohol.

Santana shakes her head, still rightfully bitter. "Planning is overrated." she informs, yanking the map out of her blonde's unsuspecting grasp.

Quinn glares at her and promptly snatches the map back. "Meanwhile if things were left up to you we'd be stuck at the back of the line."

Santana follows the blonde's pointed gaze over her shoulder and raises her brow, partially surprised to see that the three rows behind them had filled up already.

She turns back around and crosses her arms, dismissing Quinn's knowing smile. "Whatever."

While they wait, Santana looks around. Her nose crinkles at the the Peter Pan mural on the wall opposite them. "Why anyone thought it was a good idea to make a cartoon movie about a demented little ginger brat who stalks, lures, and manipulates children into his cult is beyond me."

" _Santana_." Quinn quietly warns beside her, and Santana looks over to see the family ahead of them are staring at her, all scandalized-like.

Santana might've felt bad if the kids were younger, but they were nearing their childhood cuteness expiration date, so yeah, she'll gladly add them to her list of casualties for the day.

"What?" She innocently raises her shoulders at Quinn's look of disapproval. "' _Children need to be terrified, it's like mother's milk to_ _them."_ she quotes in response _. "Without it, their bones won't grow properly._ "

Quinn's disapproval quickly disintegrates into incredulity.

"You did not just quote Sue Sylvester."

Santana chuckles at her wife's expression. "Okay, the woman was batshit crazy, there's no arguing that, but sometimes her words had truth. Who knows what kind of a lame ass human being I'd have turned out to be if the adults around me growing up weren't so honest and callous."

"Yeah, you might've—" Quinn gasps. "—turned out to be normal."

"And wouldn't that have been horrible?" Santana smirks, coming up behind the blonde and wrapping her arms around her. She drops a kiss to Quinn's shoulder before resting her chin there.

The two of them peer down at their map together.

"So what do you want to ride after this?" Quinn asks, and Santana can't help but shake her head. They hadn't gotten on this ride yet but of course Quinn was already thinking ahead. "We've got Mr. Toad's Wild Ride next door, Snow White's Scary Adventure across the—"

"The only thing I ride is my wife, thank you very much."

"Referring to your wife as a thing," Quinn murmurs disapprovingly, without looking at her. "That's not gonna make this day go by any faster."

Santana scowls and draws back as they move up in the line. "Why are we even here? You hate Disney."

Quinn looks back at her, brow furrowed.

"I do not hate Disney."

Santana arches her brow skeptically. "In all the years that I've known you I've never heard you reference a Disney movie or seen you watch one."

"You know we weren't allowed to watch Disney movies growing up. My father thought he was a communist."

Santana snorts at the reminder and shakes her head. "You should be so much more fucked up than you actually are, it's crazy."

"Look," Quinn exhales, turning around to regard her fully. "I know this place isn't your cup of tea and I know you have a long time association of this brand with a certain ex who shall remain nameless." Santana smiles wryly. Thanks to Brittany she's pretty much seen every single Disney movie in existence (and knows way too many songs for it to not be considering super embarrassing). "But I just thought since we haven't really been each other's first _anything_ , we could share this first together and make it a memorable experience."

 _Ah, so that's what this was about_ , Santana realizes with a sigh. Brittany had gotten almost all of her major firsts (first love, first time, first wife) which Santana knows made Quinn insecure sometimes. She's just glad nowadays they didn't lead to the fights that they used to.

"Do you want to leave?" Quinn quietly asks. She makes a slight face, acknowledging that she'd let her insecurities fuel her decision to drag Santana here. "There's still plenty of time to do the beach."

Santana shakes her head at the offer. As much as she'd rather not deal with these crowds and jacked up prices, this was _Disneyland_ for fuck's sake. Who knows when they'll get a chance to do this again given her and Quinn's busy work schedules.

Besides like she'd really make Quinn leave.

She may be a bitch but she's not _that_ much of a bitch when it comes to her girl.

...okay, yeah actually she is. But she knows Quinn would totally hold it against her for the rest of their time out here if she did say she wanted to go to the beach.

(And when Quinn's holding a grudge, the chances of sexy time are very, very slim — this she unfortunately knows from experience).

So, for the sake of her libido, Santana sighs in resignation. "No, we'll stay."

She resists a smile at the way Quinn adorably purses her lips, biting back her own triumphant smile.

"You sure?"

Santana nods. "I may not be a Disney freak like some of the nerds here but I'd be an idiot to deprive myself of seeing you in a wet t-shirt after a ride on Splash Mountain."

Quinn chuckles. "Is that the only reason you're not fighting me on this?"

Santana places a hand on her back, nodding. She leans into her while they move up to the front of the line. "Well that and I have every intention of getting our freak on in all the dark rides that we can."

Quinn just rolls her eyes and walks across the platform toward their awaiting pirate ship.

Santana slides in after her. "All I'm saying is if this place is going to live up to its title of _'Happiest Place on Earth'_ , I expect orgasms."

Quinn shakes her head at her, warning, "Santana so help me if you get us in any kind of trouble today."

"Me?" Santana feigns indignation as her hand covers her chest. "Get us in trouble? Never."

—

She can't believe it.

She really can't believe it.

If she wasn't still so in shock, Santana would be laughing her _fucking_ ass off right now.

"Santana, let go of me!"

Santana releases her wife only when she's made sure that overweight security guard wasn't still chasing them. She turns to the blonde afterward. "You are so fucking insane, _I love it_."

"Shut up, Santana." Quinn scowls, her face adorably flushed from the exertion of running all the way here to Tomorrowland.

"How fucking ironic is it that _you're_ the one who gets us in trouble?"

They'd been hanging out near the Jolly Holiday cafe in Main Street when it happened.

Santana had been looking for a way to appease her blonde since she kept shutting down Quinn's attempts to take a picture with those psychopaths masquerading as freakish cartoon characters. (After dragging Quinn away from Donald Duck, Santana maybe kind of sort of started to feel bad for denying her wife a simple picture).

That's when Mary Poppins and Burt showed up.

Santana figured since they were right there on the terrace, only a few feet away, they should just get it over with them.

In hindsight she _really_ should've known better than to put Quinn in the same breathing space as a character deemed, " _Practically Perfect in Every Way_ ".

Of course she'd find the girl a fucking threat.

"You pounced like a lioness. I thought you were gonna rip her face off like Siegfried."

"Roy was the one who was attacked, not Siegfried." Quinn corrects absentmindedly before rolling her eyes, exasperated. "And you overexaggerate. I did _not_ pounce."

"Oh you _pounced_."

"She was flirting with you, Santana!" Quinn exclaims.

"That's ridiculous she was not!"

Quinn arches her eyebrow in that infamous Fabray way of hers. "Are you saying I'm being ridiculous?"

"Yes!" Santana scoffs. She has no problem calling her out on it, even if she'll probably, most definitely, end up regretting it later. "You nearly got into a fist fight with Mary freakin' Poppins."

(Like, talk about your _Freaky Friday_ moment. If anyone was gonna throw down at Disneyland she'd have bet top dollar it'd be her).

It had all happened so fast. One second they're talking to them and taking pictures and everything's going fine, the next Quinn's ready to tear good 'ol Mary Poppins a new one.

"A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down." Quinn mimics in what Santana guesses is supposed be Mary's high pitched and sugary sweet Disney voice. "Yeah I bet that's not the only thing she wanted to go down." she mutters.

Santana can't help herself, she bursts out laughing at that. "I can't believe you were legitimately jealous!"

"I can't believe you were taking selfies through the whole ordeal!" Quinn shoots back.

"What?" Santana shrugs innocently. "I was documenting it for the future babies. They're gonna want proof of their mom's OG status."

She pulls out her phone and shows Quinn her latest Instagram post.

It was a damn good picture — not that she was capable of taking a bad photo of herself—with Quinn and Mary off to the side, both looking downright murderous, with a frantic Burt looking for security.

She'd captioned it: _Selfie status while bae goes all HBIC on Mary Poppins. #SuperCaliFragalisticExpialaBetterRunBitch._

"I still can't believe you got her to break character." Santana grins, scrolling the rest of the photos and shaking her head in awe. You bet your ass she'd captured every second. She was so gonna have these bad boys blown up and framed. "I heard they can get fired for that kind of shit."

"Yes, well, serves her right." Quinn huffs. "Maybe now she'll think twice before hitting on married women when she's supposed to be doing her job."

"You are so hot when you get all fired up." Santana murmurs appreciatively, tugging Quinn closer and stealing a kiss. "Feel free to pick fights with anyone else who you think is out to steal me away."

Quinn pushes her away, but she's smiling as she's rolling her eyes so it's all good. "Don't count on it."

Santana crosses her fingers anyways before taking Quinn's hand and leading her over to Star Tours.

Quinn turns to her when they reach the back of the line. "Can I ask a question though?"

"Shoot."

Quinn fails to keep the amusement out of her voice as she wonders, "Why on earth did you slap Burt?"

Santana stares at her like it's obvious, scoffing, "Like I'd let you have all the fun."

—

Once they finish with Star Tours, they decide to browse around the adjoining gift shop. Quinn loses track of Santana somewhere along the way but eventually finds her again, still hanging out in the Star Wars section of the shop.

Quinn raises her brow at the sight before her.

Santana was helping a little boy no more than five build his own lightsaber.

Now Quinn always knew Santana had a soft spot for children - as much as she tried to maintain that she didn't - but seeing her interacting with, or even just acknowledging, kids that weren't apart of her own family like her cousins or nieces and nephews was unheard of.

Quinn waits until the pair finishes and the little boy runs off with his toy before approaching Santana. "Make a new friend?" she asks, both her and Santana's gazes following the little boy to ensure he ended up back with his family.

"He threatened to shank me if I didn't help him." Santana shrugs, turning toward her.

When Quinn sees the little boy join his five other siblings, she's no longer surprised that he was able to slip away from his parents so easily.

"A five year-old threatened you?" she questions doubtfully, her gaze shifting back to Santana.

"Get that ridiculous smile off your face." Santana scowls. "He wouldn't leave me alone. Kid was bugging."

"Didn't look like it."

Santana makes a face at her smirking tone, obviously made uncomfortable. She'd never fess up to being a natural with kids, despite the fact being glaringly obvious.

For her sake, Quinn decides not to tease her about it any further. Instead she gestures to the store bag in her wife's hand, curious. "What did you buy?"

Grinning, Santana reaches into the bag and pulls out her purchase.

Quinn can't help but stare at her wife quzzically. "You bought...lightsabers?"

Santana nods and hands her one. "So next time we have a fight, we can just duke it out the jedi way."

"You've been hanging out with Sam too much." She waves the purple blade around and shakes her head, thinking if her and Santana used these plastic space swords on each other when they were mad they'd easily break them in two seconds.

Quinn looks back at Santana and scoffs disbelievingly at the sight of her red double-bladed, and significantly more badass, lightsaber. "Okay, what the hell, why do you get _two_ blades?"

"Because I can handle the awesome."

Quinn extends her lightsaber to the Latina, unamused. "Build me a new one." she demands.

Santana pushes it out of her face, scoffing. "Bitch you don't own me."

Quinn simply flashes her left hand and wiggles her fingers, reminding Santana of the wedding band she'd placed there herself.

Santana groans.

"You don't even like _Star Wars_!"

"Neither do you!"

"So not the point!" Santana groans.

" _Santana_."

"Fine!" Santana throws her hands up in surrender. "But you gotta buy me an ice cream sandwich." she stipulates with a sudden snap of her fingers. "Otherwise no dice."

Quinn stares at her incredulously. "You can never just do as I ask, can you?"

Santana just always had to get something in return.

"Of course not, babe." the latina says unapologetically. "Santana Lopez don't roll that way."

Quinn pushes the lightsaber into her wife's chest. "Just get to work."

"Slave driver." Santana glares.

"Lazy ass." Quinn glares right back.

Santana's lips win out against a smirk, in spite of herself. She steps closer and leans in for a kiss. "You love my lazy ass." she murmurs against her lips.

"I _own_ your lazy ass." Quinn corrects, helpless but to nip at Santana's pouty bottom lip.

"Yeah, well I own your _non-lazy_ ass."

"Ooh, nice comeback." she teases, making the Latina scowl. Quinn steals a quick kiss before pulling away. "I'll be right back with your ice cream."

"Ice cream _sandwich_." Santana corrects. "And the one with the chocolate chip cookies, not the Mickey Mouse shaped one. No way am I eating some rat's face."

Quinn resists the urge to roll her eyes.

"Just be grateful I don't come back with a piece of fruit."

Santana snorts at the very idea of her doing such a thing to her. "Babe, they don't even sell fruit here."

"Oh no?"

Five minutes later, when she comes back with a banana from the fruit stand, and no ice cream sandwich, Santana chases her out of Tomorrowland.

—

"Santana, if you're hungry you should eat actual food. Not just sugar."

Santana rolls her eyes as they walk away from the Tiki Juice Bar just inside Adventureland. "Babe, if I have to spend my hard earned money on overpriced food, I'm gonna do it on food that I can't get anywhere else. Not on mediocre burgers and sandwiches I can get half price somewhere else. Besides this dole whip is made with fruit and dairy. That's two major food groups so it's like okay."

"That doesn't make it healthy."

"You seriously gonna lecture me on my eating preferences?" Santana turns to her, scoffing incredulously. "A while ago you ate a fucking corn dog that looked like a giant uncircumcised penis!"

"It did not!"

"Did too!"

Quinn just rolls her eyes as they walk over to the nearest unoccupied bench. As soon as they've settled down, she reaches over and steals Santana's spoon.

"You said you didn't want one." Santana complains, helpless but to watch her take out a spoonful of _her_ food.

"I'm your wife." Quinn says simply, smiling around her mouthful. "I'm entitled to half of everything in your possession."

"I did not sign up for this!"

With another roll of her eyes, Quinn leans forward to pacify her wife in the best way she knows how: with a soft, lingering, (this time pineapple flavored) kiss.

"Now that I _did_ sign up for." Santana grins when they part, savoring the taste on her lips. "But seriously," She turns her body away and moves her cup out of Quinn's reach. "No more."

"See if I kiss you for the rest of day then!"

Santana grudgingly turns back around. Her eyes narrow in a glare. "Why are you so evil?"

Quinn happily scoops up another spoonful. "Because you love it, _duh_."

Santana sighs in spite of herself, nodding, "Yeah, I can't argue that."

Quinn grins.

Between the two of them they end up finishing the dole whip relatively fast.

"What's your favorite Disney movie?" Quinn asks when Santana comes back from throwing their trash away.

" _The Lion King._ "

Quinn smiles curiously at that automatic response. "Why?"

"First Disney movie I ever remembered seeing." Santana shrugs. "And loving. And I'm pretty sure Scar was my first exposure to sarcasm."

"And as everyone knows, monkey see monkey do." Quinn teases.

Santana concedes with a nod, "My senior quote is from that movie. ' _I'm surrounded by idiots_ ' — my mom said I'd use to say that all the time when I was little, all deadpanned and everything."

Quinn can't help her snicker. "Your senior quote was from a _Disney_ movie?"

"Shut up, Fabray."

"It's _Lopez_ now, remember?" Quinn reminds, instinctively leaning into Santana's side when her arm wraps around her shoulders.

Santana starts them off to the nearby Jungle Cruise. "Yeah, but if I say _Shut up, Lopez_ I'll feel like I'm just referring to myself in third person and that's weird. _No me gusta_."

Later, when they finish up with both the Jungle Cruise and Indiana Jones ride, they slip into the Trading Outpost gift shop across the way, wanting to see what they had before moving on to New Orleans Square.

Quinn's looking at the jewelry when something whips her ass, making her shriek in a completely undignified manner. She spins around and her face quickly flushes with embarrassment when she realizes her little outburst had caught the attention of a few other people.

"What the hell, Santana?" she hisses.

In front of her stands her cocky wife, playing the part of Indiana Jones, complete with fedora and whip in hand.

 _Oh for god's sake._

"Babe don't act like this is the first time you've been smacked on the ass." Santana smirks, pushing down her aviator sunglasses so Quinn can see her suggestive brow waggle.

"There's a difference between smacking and whipping, Santana." Quinn mumbles, her hand still on her sore ass.

(As it turned out those whips were the real deal).

"Of course you'd know all about being whipped." Santana chuckles, sliding on up to her and pulling her close with her hands.

Quinn scoffs and discretely moves Santana's hands off her ass. "Of the two of us, I am so not the whipped one, sweetheart."

Santana doesn't even bother to conceal her smirk. " _Sure_ you're not." she indulges.

Quinn arches her brow playfully. "Who gives the piggy back rides in this relationship, hmm?"

"Only because you can't."

"Only because _you_ won't let me."

Even though her car accident was forever ago, Santana was still paranoid about injuring her back in some way.

"I'm not about to risk crippling you." Santana scoffs. "I need you able-bodied for all our sexy time."

"Speaking of sexy time, who's almost always on top?" Quinn challenges.

"Again I'm looking out for your back." Santana indignantly glares. "In all other aspects you're the one that's whipped."

Quinn laughs.

She's _so_ in denial.

"Keep telling yourself that, babe."

Santana's scowl just deepens.

"C'mon, _Dr. Jones_." Quinn chuckles, pushing her back a step. "Let's go on Pirates of the Caribbean."

" _Dr. Cruz_. Rosario Cruz." Santana corrects, tugging Quinn back until their hips were pushed up against each other. "And I've got a better idea."

Despite knowing well what that smirk means, Quinn can't help feeling tempted anyways. Especially when Santana's looking at her with those dark hungry eyes of hers.

Quinn's pushing her luck she knows — it was a miracle her little incident on Main Street didn't get them thrown out —but damn, she just cannot resist her wife.

(Okay, so _maybe_ Santana had her just as whipped as she did her).

"Okay." Quinn sighs. "Lead the way."

Santana grins all too happily at that.

On their way out, she drops the whip back in the bin where she got it and goes to remove the fedora, but Quinn stops her at the last second. "Buy the hat."

"Wanky." Santana sing-songs.

"Shut up."

—

Quinn smooths down her hair self-consciously.

"Stop looking so smug." she orders, walking around the Rivers of America.

"If only your sixteen year-old self could see you now." Santana crows, walking beside her with so much pep in her step that Quinn's half tempted to shove her into the water. "Getting your freak on at Disneyland."

Quinn shakes her head, the high that came from public sex on Tom Sawyer island having quickly died down. "We're not doing that again by the way."

Well, not _here_ , anyways.

"Puh-lease." Santana scoffs, side-eyeing her knowingly. "Like you could resist this hotness for the rest of the day."

"I can and I will." Quinn laughs.

Santana throws her arm around her shoulders, pulling her back, and drops a quick kiss to the side of her head. "You overestimate your self-control, babe."

Quinn rolls her eyes but wraps her arm around the Latina's waist anyways.

"Whatever, S."

Now walking through Frontierland, Quinn catches sight of a food cart selling turkey legs. Her nose scrunches up in distaste. "Those look disgusting."

Santana follows her gaze and nods. "Yeah I know. I want one."

Santana drops her arm and walks away from her just like that. Quinn reluctantly follows after her, shaking her head to herself.

"Could we get a bottled water too, please?" she politely asks of the cashier after Santana finishes her order.

The girl nods and rings them up, handing Quinn her water first, then Santana her turkey leg.

"You're always so thirsty after sex." Santana comments as they're walking away.

Quinn uncaps the bottle and shrugs. "It's important to rehydrate." she says, tipping her head back and taking a long sip.

"It's like impossible for you to be dry." Santana replies. "You're always like a damn slip n' slide. I swear, one of these days, my whole hand is just gonna slip right up in your lovely lady lagoon."

And cue the unintentional spit-take.

Quinn wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, coughing profusely.

Santana casts a glance down at the ground she'd just sprayed with water. "Very attractive, Fabray."

Quinn narrows her eyes at that dry remark.

 _Says the one tearing into a turkey leg like a cave woman_ , she thinks.

"Likewise, Lopez."

—

Santana firmly shakes her head. "No."

" _Santana_."

Santana folds her arms across her chest, unyielding.

"Nope."

"Can we at least see—?"

"I don't go to places called _Toontown_ , Quinn. If my old crew from Lima Heights found out, my street cred would be shot."

Quinn resists the urge to throw her head back in exasperation. "For the millionth time, Santana. You're. Not. From. Lima. Heights."

"You're right. I'm from Lima Heights _Adjacent_. Which is way worse."

Quinn shakes her head at her. "You're delusional, you know that?"

"Look at her!" Santana points to a family passing by, specifically to the little girl who was eyeing the entrance with just as much contempt as she was. "See? She knows what's up."

"She's probably making that face because her parents have her on a child leash." Quinn tiredly sighs. "How degrading is that?"

Santana nods in agreement. "We're never doing that to our kids by the way." she says, taking her hand again.

As Santana drags her back to Fantasyland, Quinn blinks, her mind belatedly registering that that's second time Santana's referenced _their_ kids today. That's twice more than usual.

Huh.

Quinn glances back at Santana curiously. The last time the subject of children came up was not long after they'd gotten married, when babies were the furthest thing on either of their minds.

It was never a question of if they wanted to start a family, they both knew that they did, just a question of when.

Were these subtle mentions Santana's way of telling her she was ready?

Now that she thought about it, she's caught Santana on more than one occasion smiling fondly at the little girls dressed as princesses or making silly faces at the babies they happened to be in line with, which so isn't Santana's thing...

 _Oh my god. She totally wants a baby_.

Quinn trips over herself with the realization, finding it both exhilarating and terrifying.

"Woah, Fabray." Thankfully Santana is there to keep her from completely falling on her face. "I get it, I'm super easy to fall for, but don't kill yourself in the process."

"The pavement is uneven here, dork." Quinn playfully scowls, but her face nevertheless blushing.

"You don't see me trippin', do you?"

"Oh shut up."

"Love you too, Q." Santana grins.

Quinn rolls her eyes but allows Santana to drape her arm back across her shoulders.

She decides to wait on the baby talk. She wants to see if any other signs of baby fever manifest themselves before she can call Santana out on them.

—

"I'm sure it's not nearly as bad as people make it out to be."

Santana just eyes the smiling clock tower warily.

Twenty minutes later...

 _It's a small world after all_  
 _It's a small world after all_  
 _It's a small world after all_

 _It's a small, small world..._

It's when their boat rounds the corner into yet another room that Santana snaps.

"Nope. I'm sorry, Q. But I can't. I can't. I want out of this Chucky the doll demon hell portal. _Now_." Before Quinn can even think to calm her down, Santana's standing up, grabbing her hand, pulling her up out of her seat.

"Santana!" she shrieks, nearly tripping over herself when Santana yanks her off the boat and onto one of the platforms.

"It's what these exits are for!"

 _It's a world of laughter, a world of tears_  
 _It's a world of hope and a world of fears_  
 _There's so much that we share, that it's time we're aware_  
 _It's a small world after all—_

Quinn snatches her arm back once they're outside. "You're insane, Santana!"

"Yeah, I probably am now thanks to you!" Santana exclaims. "For fucking traumatizing the shit out of me, you now gotta buy me a churro!"

If Quinn wasn't so indignant about being manhandled and taken off the ride so abruptly, she'd probably be laughing her ass off at Santana's hilarious reaction to Small World.

"You are worse than a child, you know that?"

As they walk — well, Quinn walks, Santana storms — down the sidewalk, away from the Small World ride, Quinn notices that a bunch of people were gathered around, waiting for the parade.

"Hey, do you want to stop and check out the—"

She starts to ask but Santana is already shaking her head, placing a hand on her lower back and guiding her away from the crowd. "No I wants my churro. Besides I don't need you taking swipes at anymore princesses."

"Mary Poppins is not a princess." Quinn glares. "And I didn't take any swipes. I'm not a cat."

"No, you're a bitch."

Quinn turns and punches her arm for that comment.

"Term of endearment, babe!" Santana calls after, rubbing her arm, watching Quinn determinedly walk ahead of her. "You know it's your best quality!"

Sighing heavily, Santana reluctantly picks up her pace to catch up to the blonde.

"Babe, what about my churro?"

Over her shoulder, Quinn just flips her the bird.

"Oh, _real_ mature, Fabray!"

Santana rolls her eyes.

Ugh.

Her wife was such an asshole.

God knows why she found it so endearing.

—

Back in Fantasyland Santana reluctantly gives into paying for a twenty dollar cheeseburger meal at the Pinocchio themed Village Haus. In between bites Santana grumbles about it being Quinn's fault that she was burning off so many damn calories, 'making her chase after her all damn day'.

Quinn makes up for it though with a promise of an amazing dessert in Main Street (and an even better dessert later, when they get back to their hotel).

After they finish eating, while Santana goes to the restroom, Quinn heads past the castle to the Snow White grotto. She was having a wonderful time but she needed a quiet moment away from the crowds and noise if she was going to have the strength for the second leg of their day.

The minutes tick by and when some family comes looking to take a photo by the wishing well, Quinn reluctantly leaves her quiet spot to find Santana. Even with long lines it shouldn't have taken her this long to pee.

"Babe!"

Quinn turns her head and right away sees Santana waltzing down the castle walkway. She smiles and starts toward her, only to stop short when she realizes what her wife had with her, resting against her shoulder.

Excalibur.

Aka _The Sword in the Stone._

Or at least it was _supposed_ to be in the stone.

Quinn blinks disbelievingly.

(She'd read it could be pulled out through an interactive attraction with Merlin but she highly doubted anyone could just walk away with it).

" _I'm a provider_." Santana sings in the tune of Destiny Child's _Survivor_. " _I'm gonna sell this, make me some money, to spend on my honey_." Santana holds up the sword triumphantly. "Snix for the win, babe!" she grins, oblivious to her slack-jawed wife.

Quinn rushes to close the distance between them. "I thought you went to the restroom!"

"I did." Santana answers casually. "But after I made a stop."

Quinn can't stop staring at the sword.

"How did you get that?"

" _I'm Santana Lopez_." the Latina scoffs, as if Quinn needed the reminder. "When I sets my sights on bling, I gets them bling." She removes the sword from her shoulder and looks at it contemplatively. "I don't know what pulling out the sword means but I'm pretty sure I'm the new CEO of Disney."

"Hey, you there! Stop!"

Santana and Quinn both turn their heads to find half a dozen security guards running toward them.

"Santana!" she can't help but shriek.

Santana's eyes widen in that _oh shit_ manner of hers. "Remember if we get caught, you're deaf and I don't speak English." she utters quickly, grabbing a hold of Quinn's wrist and running.

Quinn _really_ wishes she could say that wasn't their default mode for when either of them got into trouble, but it was.

—

Mercedes has just gotten home from finishing a long day of finalizing the details for her new tour. She was looking forward to a hot shower, getting in a little Netflix, maybe even FaceTime-ing with Sam if he was free.

She no sooner walks through her foyer when she gets the call.

They're in jail.

 _Disney_ jail.

She can't believe that a) There's such a thing as Disney jail. b) That she literally _cannot_ leave those two crazies alone for any given amount of time without them getting into some kind of trouble.

She doesn't bother asking the guy on the line what it was they did to get themselves booted out of the park but she'll bet it had something to do with either fighting or fornicating.

Or both.

Mercedes shakes her head to herself.

Was it so impossible for them to keep their hands off each other, or off other people?

Really?

With every intention of unleashing a patented can of whoopass on their skinny asses the second she has them alone, Mercedes reluctantly gets back in her car and makes the drive to Anaheim to bail out the infamous Mrs. and Mrs. Lopez.

They are _so_ gonna owe her for this.

When she finally gets to the park (after sitting in traffic for two hours) Mercedes is escorted to their holding location. It turns out to be underground, which is kind of scary, but not so scary because the actual place kind of resembles the DMV, just with _The Lion King_ playing on the tv.

Weird.

(Maybe Disney thinks forcing their park offenders to watch Mufasa's death scene will traumatize them enough so that they'll never think to misbehave on their property again).

Mercedes shakes her head of the thought and approaches the two lesbians sitting in Disney jail.

"You two need to stop binge-watching _Orange is the New Black_. Vauseman is not relationship goals."

The park isn't pressing any charges, thankfully, but they are getting a lifetime ban which seems like a pretty steep price to pay. But, then again, she has no idea what it is these two did so for all she knew it was completely warranted.

(It probably is if they had to break out the fake aliases...again).

Quinn and Santana pop up out of their chairs, their gazes breaking from the tv above, and go over to her immediately. "Mercedes." Quinn breathes out in relief. "Thank you so—"

Mercedes holds up her hand, cutting her off. They can kiss her ass later.

Right now she wanted answers.

She knows better than to ask for them here, though, so she waits until they're back at Downtown Disney, away from so many security officers, before getting to it. "So, from my understanding Disney is under the impression that you, Rosario Cruz, don't speak a word of English, and you, Emily Stark are deaf."

"I'm also second cousins to Penelope Cruz, if anyone asks."

Mercedes fixes the Latina with the same wide-eyed _are you for real?_ look she's been giving the girl since they were sixteen years-old. "Santana, you're an attorney! You know you can't be giving false information to law enforcement!"

It amazes her how Santana can get into as much trouble as she does and still maintain her job at one of the country's most successful law firms.

"Just cause I'm an attorney doesn't mean I have to be a law abiding citizen." Santana scoffs dismissively. "Everyone knows that."

Mercedes exhales slow and painfully. "Okay," she says after a moment. "Give it to me straight." She looks between them both, knowing she was about to regret coming down here in .5 seconds. "What exactly did you two do?"

Unsurprisingly neither one hesitates.

"Santana tried to steal the sword in the stone!"

"Quinn tried to beat up Mary Poppins!"

Quinn and Santana both turn and shoot each other incredulous looks for ratting the other out.

"Lord help me." Mercedes sighs up at the sky.

Quinn folds her arms across her chest, continuing more reluctantly, "Santana seduced me on Tom Sawyer island!"

Unsurprisingly Santana looks absolutely unapologetic for that one.

"Quinn made me go on It's a Small World."

 _Now that's just plain cruel,_ Mercedes thinks with a small shake of her head.

"Santana flashed the cameras on Splash Mountain _twice_!"

"Quinn made me go on It's a Small World!"

Quinn narrows her eyes at her wife. "You said that already."

"It's worth repeating." Santana retorts. "I'm gonna have nightmares of little ethnic stereotype animatronic children for weeks _and don't get me started on that fucking song_ —"

"Okay, shut up the both of you !" Mercedes shouts, knowing their banter can get real ugly real quick if someone doesn't play mediator.

 _Good Lord._

Only with these two. _  
_

"First of all," She fixes Quinn with a disbelieving stare. "Mary Poppins, _really?_ And second of all, baby girl, you really need to learn to resist your wife in public places." Quinn at least has the decency to look ashamed. Santana on the other hand...

Mercedes shakes her head at her. "Satan you need to stop touching things that aren't yours."

"I'll have you know I didn't choose the sword, it chose me."

Mercedes will get back to that. "You also need to learn to keep your body parts covered. We get it, you've got you a nice rack, no need to be showing it off to everyone."

" _Thank you_." huffs Quinn.

Santana just rolls her eyes.

"So how'd you do it?" Mercedes just has to know. "How'd you get your hands on the sword? Who'd you threaten?"

"I didn't threaten anyone." Santana scowls, crossing her arms indignantly. "I was on my way back from the bathroom, I passed by it, saw that no one was around and I figured while I was there...why not? Snix is never one to back down from a challenge." She shrugs. "I ended up just pulling it out."

Mercedes rolls her eyes. "That sword doesn't _just_ come out, Santana."

Santana quirks her brow. "You calling me a liar?"

Mercedes' hands fly to her hips. "Well I'm not calling you a truther!" she huffs in exasperation.

"Give me a little credit!" Santana snaps. "It didn't just come out magically on its own. I had to tug it out."

"Wanky." Quinn murmurs unconsciously.

Mercedes stares at the blonde in disbelief. "Okay." She points at Quinn, but her horrified stare slides back to Santana. "She has definitely been with you too long."

Santana snorts and drapes an arm around Quinn's shoulders, pulling her close.

"She hasn't been with me long enough, Wheezy." Santana corrects, tenderly kissing the side of Quinn's head.

Mercedes softens at the display.

Okay, she could admit that was kinda sweet.

"I mean, seriously, when I think about all the years we wasted not having awesome bitch goddess sex, I get all choked up."

With a roll of her eyes Quinn shoves Santana's arm away.

Mercedes sighs heavily.

Leave it to Satan to ruin the moment.

"You do realize you that guys can't come back now." Mercedes feels the need to remind.

"They probably would've just let us off with a warning if you didn't make such a scene when they caught us, Santana." Quinn says, glancing back at her wife. "Or tried to beat them with your lightsaber."

"It was racial and sexual orientation discrimination." Santana shrugs. "I thought everyone should know about it. As for the lightsaber, well...that's what they're for. Beating people."

"What are we going to do when our future children ask to go to Disneyland?" Quinn wants to know.

"Take them to a real amusement park. Like Magic Mountain."

Mercedes raises her brow at the casual mention of future children, _their_ future children. Like, huh? When did those two start doing that?

" _Santana_."

" _Quinn_." Santana returns in the same tone. "Weren't you paying any attention to _The Lion King?_ Hakuna Matata." At Quinn's blank expression, she explains, "It means 'No Worries'. Emily Stark and Rosario Cruz are the ones that are banned. _We_ can come back anytime we want."

"Santana they took our pictures, they have them on file. We show our faces anywhere near this place—"

"Babe, relax." Santana sighs, rolling her eyes. "I know a guy." As she speaks, her thumbs are already blurring across her phone screen, tapping away. "As far as we're concerned this incident never even happened."

Mercedes looks over at Quinn curiously. "How often does she say those exact words to you?"

"More than you could ever imagine." Quinn sighs.

—

"You know my other friends never get in this kind of trouble." Mercedes mentions. "And they all work in the Entertainment Business. What does that tell you?"

"That you, Aunt Jemima, need more entertaining friends." Santana easily responds. "C'mon, babe." She grabs Quinn's hand and leads her onto the tram that will take them back to the parking structure.

As soon as they're settled in their seats, with Mercedes opting to sit in the row behind them, Quinn looks back at Santana's newly acquired shopping bag. She'd insisted on making a pit stop at the giant World of Disney store in Downtown Disney— of course ignoring the security officials' specific instructions not to hang around the Disney property after they were released.

"What did you get this time?"

Santana always seemed to make her purchases when she wasn't around.

Santana pulls the bag onto her lap and begins searching through it. "Wipe that suspicious look off your face, Fabray. Most of what I bought are gifts for you."

A pleased smile settles across Quinn's face. "I was wondering when you were going to even the score, considering all the treats you made me buy you."

"Can I help it if I have low blood sugar?"

"Low blood sugar." Quinn repeats, snorting at the very idea. "As if."

"Here, babe." Santana hands her a DVD and Quinn smiles when she sees it's a copy of _The Lion King_. "So we can finish your first Disney movie viewing experience at the hotel."

Quinn begins shaking her head. "I still can't believe of all movies _that_ was the one showing."

What were the odds?

"I tell ya, the universe loves us."

Quinn scoffs under her breath. Her wife seemed to forget the fact it'd been showing in _Disney jail_ , which they'd been thrown in, not just for Santana's sword stealing stunt, but for all their other indiscretions as well.

(As it turned out Mickey Mouse was like Big Brother - _always watching_ ).

Quinn tiredly rests her chin against Santana's shoulder. They were still waiting on the tram to fill up some more. "What else did you get me?"

Santana puts back the DVD and pulls out Quinn's second gift. Quinn beams at the sight of it.

A baby Simba plush toy wrapped in his own green blankie.

"For my badass lioness, to remember this awesome day."

Quinn lightly chuckles. "I don't think I'll ever forget this day. But thank you just the same." she says, sweetly kissing her wife's lips.

Afterward, her gaze shifts back to her new souvenir. This specific plush, according to the tag, was apart of the Disney's _Babies_ collection.

 _Again with the babies!_

"Santana?"

Santana rolls her head back. "No, Q, I didn't steal it."

"No," Quinn shakes her head and looks back at her unsurely. She worries her bottom lip for a second. "Do you want a baby?"

Santana narrows her eyes slightly, her head tilting curiously. "Where'd that question come from?"

Because Santana hadn't answered her directly, Quinn hesitates, suddenly doubtful. "Well, in between complaints of the long lines and the prices and the crowds, you were giving off, I dunno, these vibes and you kept mentioning our future kids..."

"I don't know if you were doing it on purpose or if it was some unconscious thing," The way Santana's brow knits together in amusement has Quinn leaning toward latter. "But it got me wondering if you're ready to start a family. With me."

(She doesn't know why she added 'with me', that's a given).

"You know I want to be your baby's _mami,_ Quinn." Santana says. "Or I want you to be my baby's mama, however the hell lesbians work out this baby making shit." Quinn smiles faintly when Santana playfully rolls her eyes before turning serious again. "When it comes to starting our family, I'm ready when you are, babe."

Quinn relaxes a little, relieved she'd been right. It wouldn't been completely mortifying if she'd been completely off base. "But are you sure?" she can't help but ask. "I mean I don't mind waiting if you're not—"

"I wants babies with you, Q." Santana assures. "Plain and simple. If we could, I'd suggest we start making them as soon as we got to the hotel."

"Damn biology." she quietly huffs.

Santana laughs and kisses her head. "My point is: I'm ready. Are you?"

Quinn meets her gaze and nods. "I'm ready."

She was nervous, but ready. She had everything else she'd ever wanted in life, a satisfying job, a beautiful home, and a partner she could honestly call her best friend. All that was she wanted now was to add a few babies to the mix.

Quinn chuckles to herself. Having babies with Santana. Who'd have ever thought?

"Do you think we'd be good at it?"

Santana scoffs at the uncertainty in her voice. "No doubt about it, Fabray. We're good at everything we do."

"Especially getting into trouble." Mercedes pipes up, leaning forward in her seat.

"Especially getting into trouble." Quinn echoes with an embarrassed smile. "Which we can't be doing anymore." she says pointedly, turning to Santana. "Not when babies are involved."

"It's not exactly like we do it on purpose." Santana points out.

Which was sad but true. "Still we need to learn to behave ourselves."

Santana laughs out loud at that. "Babe, you remember who you're talking to, right?"

" _Santana_." Quinn pleads, but smiling helplessly anyways. "If we're gonna be mothers we have to set good examples for our kids."

"And we will." Santana promises with a confident grin. "We'll be the fucking best. Make Hummel and Berry look like jack shit parents in comparison."

Quinn just shakes her head and sighs. She goes back to resting her head on Santana's shoulder.

"Can you imagine if we get twins the first time out?"

Quinn's head snaps up at that sudden thought, her eyes going wide. " _Ex-cuse me?_ " she splutters, her voice cracking on her.

"What?" Santana laughs at her expression. "Two is like our lucky number." She gestures to their intertwined hands. "This all started with a two time thing. This is my second marriage." Quinn grimaces, she really didn't need the reminder. "When you get pregnant, it'll be your second pregnancy. Two days is the most we can go without sex..."

"Most _you_ can go without." Quinn corrects with a laugh.

"It's been exactly two days since we last had sex." Santana reminds. "And what happened today? Hmm? A certain blonde needed a certain Latina to put her fingers up a certain place while her tongue—"

"Finish that sentence, Satan, and so help me." Mercedes warns.

The tram finally starts moving and Quinn curls into Santana when the cold wind picks up. Santana speaks up after a few moments of content silence. "You know from now on every time I think of Disney from now on I'm gonna think back to this awesome day where we had sex in Disneyland and decided to start a family."

Quinn smiles happily at the thought. "Me too."

Santana turns her head, eyes sparkling with sudden mischief. "When we have kids and they're like old enough to want to go to Disneyland, we should fuck with 'em and tell them they were conceived in Disneyland." Quinn just stares at her in vague disbelief. _The way her wife's mind worked_..."Imagine how horrified they'll be!" she gleams. "They'll be too disgusted to ever want to go so we can just come back here by ourselves and they won't care."

"And who will be watching our kids while we go gallivanting off to Disneyland?" Quinn is curious to know.

Santana brightly gestures back to Mercedes. "Why their Aunt Wheezy, of course."

"Oh hell to the no!" Mercedes scoffs, her gaze snapping to attention. "You couldn't pay me to watch over your devil spawn."

"Mercedes!" Quinn gasps in surprise.

"Sorry Quinn but any kid with Santana's DNA won't be needing a babysitter. No, they'll be needing an animal wrangler, a prison guard, and an exorcist."

Santana glares at their friend over her shoulder. "Aretha don't make me throw you off this tram, cause I fucking will."

"Go ahead and try it," Mercedes challenges. "I carry around holy water in my purse now and I've been waiting for an excuse to use it since you landed."

Santana shifts back around and stares at Quinn appreciatively. "You know, it's times like these where I remember why we decided to keep her in our lives in the first place."

"'Decided to keep her in your..." Mercedes repeats before ultimately trailing off in disbelief. "Satan, no just you did not!"

—

"So," They're driving back to LA when Santana looks over at her expectantly. "Does our first trip to Disneyland measure up to what you'd hoped for?"

"And then some." Quinn admits, smiling in spite of herself. They'd gotten into a lot of trouble, sure, but even if she got the chance to do the day over she would still make all the same choices. "This morning I'd been hoping for a memorable experience, and boy did you give it to me."

"Oh I gave it to you alright." Santana snickers, glancing back at her. " _Twice_."

"Wanky." Quinn chuckles.

"You know that's gonna be our kid's first word." Santana brings up casually.

Quinn scoffs back at her. "Uh, no, it absolutely is not!"

"If it's not gonna be _wanky_ it's gonna be a curse word, I'm making sure of it, so take your pick."

"No!"

"You want no say in the matter, _fine with me_." Santana shrugs.

"Santana!" she warns.

"You know I bet _Mary Poppins_ would let me teach our baby to say whatever words I wanted."

Quinn just shoots her a withering glare.

* * *

AN: As always, thanks for reading!


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